Chack Wheel of Emotions
by CrystallicSky
Summary: Robert Plutchik's wheel of emotions in Chack form. CHACK, ONESHOT


**Chack Wheel of Emotions**

**By: CrystallicSky**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown. For serious.**

Warnings: Language, sexual implications, slight violence, and two pieces of EXTREME emoness (essential meaning of that: character death).

Joy- _Is it possible for a heart to explode because of happiness?_ Jack wondered to himself, seeing as it felt like an incredibly _real_ possibility at the moment: walking hand-in-hand with his, oh God, that felt like potential joy-death again, _boyfriend_ in the mall. It was one thing for Chase to agree to go out into public with him. It was quite another to do so and express emotion to him openly. It was another thing entirely separate from both of the previous things to, in addition to the going out and the public display of affection, consent to shop around with him for two and a half hours and then go get Dippin' Dots ice cream. Either way, if one _could_ die of happiness, Jack was pretty sure he was about thirty seconds from being six-feet-under with the biggest grin a stiff could ever hope to have.

Acceptance- Chase Young frowned down upon the young man groveling at his feet shamelessly. "Spicer," he said, "do you realize that this is exactly the fifty-seventh time you have begged to be accepted as my apprentice?" The warlord watched as the redhead looked up at him, sheepishly admitting, "Yeah…" "Did you expect to suddenly be greeted with a different answer _this_ time?" he wondered. "W…well," Jack shrugged, "I was kinda…hoping…" Chase frowned at him and inquired, "Just how old are you now, Spicer?" "Eighteen, sir," came the immediate, obedient answer. He frowned again, concluding, "A man, and still not grown out of this?" Jack's head ducked at the rhetorical question, as if the tone in the warlord's voice suggesting that such a thing was mistaken made it wrong. Chase inspected the goth on his knees in front of him for a long moment. Eventually, he ordered, "On your feet, Spicer; there's only one thing to do to end this nonsense." Terror rolled off the youth in waves at his firm statement, believing nothing but the worst, but the goth nonetheless stood stock-still as Chase left his throne to casually approach him. The warlord came directly in front of Jack, only a few inches of space between the two of them; he did not miss the way Spicer's spine went just a bit straighter in his close proximity. He reached out a hand and deftly lay it upon Jack's shoulder (which accompanied a flinch of surprise on the latter's part) and used his thumb to pull aside the collar of the shirt the boy currently wore. When Chase's hand abruptly changed shape and size, morphing into the sort of clawed appendage guaranteed to give anyone nightmares, the goth naturally gave a shrill squeak of horror and clamped his eyes shut: this was it. Chase was going to tear out his throat to stop him from coming around and begging for a place by his side because at this point in his life, there was no way he would ever stop on his own. The warlord watched dispassionately as one of his claws dug _deep_ into the boy's white skin, acting as if he didn't even hear the sharp cry of pain that tore loose from Spicer's throat and focusing only on his task of carving through flesh. Soon finishing with this, Chase allowed his hand to return to its normal state before calling upon his long-unused element of fire, quite literally _burning_ the mark he'd made into instant scar-tissue; with that, he stepped away from the youth. Quivering and confused, Jack raised his hand to the throbbing mark and touched it gingerly, feeling the shape of it: 'CY', Chase's initials. He turned his eyes upon the man and only half-asked, "Whuh…?" "You've gotten your wish, Spicer," his idol spoke firmly. "I have accepted you as my student. I would have done so sooner, but you were much too young when you first begged me for the position. I had to make sure that your desire for it was not simply a childhood fancy that you would grow out of; I needed to know that even as an adult, you would still want it." "I always _have_," Jack couldn't help but blurt out. "Yes," Chase murmured, "I am aware of that, now." He turned his back on the goth and walked forward a bit, sighing, "There is _much_ to teach you, but I suppose I can manage it…" Excited, the goth eagerly wondered, "Where do we start?" This had apparently been the exact statement the man had been looking for, and he turned to face the young man once more, even closer than he'd been when they were only three inches apart at best. "I'm so glad you asked, my apprentice," Chase purred in a tone that felt like it had liquefied the goth's spine. "I was thinking we could start right about…here…" After six years of waiting, both Chase Young and Jack Spicer were rewarded for their patience with a heated kiss.

Fear- Rapidly losing his sense of equilibrium (as is quite easy to do when falling from a height of thirty or so stories), Jack couldn't even scream, much less curse the Dragon of Wind into next Tuesday for giving him the extra push off the ledge on which the Shen Gong Wu rested, far too deep in rapid consideration of whether or not he had gotten around to writing that last will and testament. Now normally, falling from so high up wouldn't be an issue: he had his helipack, after all. Unfortunately for Jack, this just happened to be the _one week_ it was on the fritz, and so with no way to save himself (and no bots to do it, either: the Xiaolin losers had already smashed them into a vague suggestion of scrap metal), it was looking like curtains for the poor boy genius. Out of nowhere, Jack's fall was impeded by something firm and quick, and before he knew it, he was back on the ledge he had fallen from. As the environment shifted back to normal (the third party interference had defaulted the Xiaolin as the winning side), the goth slowly registered the sensation of being held tightly against an armored chest and the sharp, distinct scent of his lover. "Oh, thank god," he sighed in relief. "I thought I was a goner for a minute there-" "You must be more _careful_, you fool," Chase abruptly snapped at him, sounding absolutely furious. Jack flinched at the harsh tone, but attempted to get closer to the man rather than further away; needing the comfort after his near-death experience. "I know," he whimpered. "I'm sorry…I'll be more careful from now on, I swear." "See to it that you do," his lover growled at him. And that was when Jack's stressed-out brain chose to catch up to the here and now and realize something: Chase's breathing was as shaky as his own, and though muted by the thick metal of his armor, it seemed his heart was beating just as fast. Smiling almost imperceptibly, the goth softly concluded, "You were scared, too…"

Surprise- Chase Young was _not_ in a good mood; not one bit. His lover had had the gall to run off on a 'family vacation' a week and a half ago, despite his direct order _not_ to go, and now here he was, alone in his citadel. On. His. Birthday. One can only _imagine_ the sort of celebratory plans entirely ruined by Spicer's absence, and to have said ruined plans stewing in his head for hours, taunting him with their impossibility, just made it all the worse. Disgruntled by the entire day at this point, the warlord headed for his bedroom, intent on becoming unconscious until further notice; when the world would perhaps make a little more sense and _reward_ a demi-god for 1,508 years of living instead of _punishing_ him. As he threw open the door, however, he stopped in his tracks at what lay upon his bed. "Surprise, baby," Jack lewdly cooed at him, wearing absolutely nothing but the bed sheet over his waist. Proper preparations for lovemaking were already on the bedside table, and the drapes were shut to allow the candles about the room to give proper ambiance. "I bet you thought I forgot, huh?" No answer to this was given (or needed) as the man pounced upon his thoughtful lover, growling out a 'thank you' to whatever of the wicked gods had allowed him this pleasant surprise.

Aggressiveness- Jack panted to catch his breath, eyes wide as he stared down at the evidence of what he'd just done. There, on the ground before him lay a battered and bloody Kimiko, looking like she'd gotten in a fight with a dozen or so cinderblocks as opposed to a scrawny goth. He was too stunned at his own behavior to consider the fact that overcoming a trained martial artist with nothing but the sheer force of his aggression should've been impossible, and he turned to his lover for whatever answer he could give. "Chase…whuh…how'd I..?" The man grinned at him as if he were proud and lay a hand on the youth's shoulder. "She tried to take me from you," the warlord spoke, reminding Jack of the latest Xiaolin scheme: seduce Chase Young using the token girl. "You felt threatened and defended what is essentially your territory by giving her what she deserved." Despite himself the goth smirked and quipped, "So you're my territory, now?" "I am as much yours as you are mine, Spicer," his lover chuckled in response, "and I am pleased that you can, in fact do what it takes to ensure that that shall remain true." The albino shrugged and said, "It's not like you actually would've done her or anything; I kicked her ass for nothing." "On the contrary," Chase assured, "she had that 'ass-kicking' coming for even _attempting_ to draw my attention away from you, whether I would've consented to 'doing her' or not." Jack giggled and said, "It's funny when you use modern syntax." Ignoring the resulting frown at his observation, he glanced back over to the knocked out female on the ground, sizing her up: she would probably be fine in a couple of days, but she wouldn't be waking up for a couple of hours. "What do we do with Sleeping Bitch over there? She doesn't _at all_ match that tiger statue next to her, and I don't like her enough to move the statue someplace else so the room works." Chase followed his gaze and was briefly silent, only to smirk as an idea came to him. "I know just the thing, Spicer…" The monks were horrified to discover their female companion outside of their temple, beaten senseless with a note pinned to her front that read, _"Next time, don't fuck with my boyfriend, you losers! Courtesy of Kim's Pwning and Return Provided by, Jack Spicer."_

Sadness- It was hard to watch, to see that intense, heart-shattering sadness well up in Jack's eyes whenever Chase rejected him, but…it was a necessary thing to do. It would be foolish to accept the goth now, when Wuya was still a threat and could easily compromise him by leaking what incredibly few secrets of his she had discovered to Bean in her lust for power. He had need of this charade a bit longer, and so he would continue to pretend that he _liked_ putting his mouth on the witch's and his hands on her body, despite how badly it hurt Jack, who seemed to slink away from his palace more and more like a kicked dog each time; it was only until he could determine how the witch could be destroyed once and for all, meaning the wretched woman's troublesome soul, as well. Once that was done, he would have, quite literally, all the time in the world to assuage _his_ Jack's unhappiness with gentle words and promises that he'd been yearning to say for far too long.

Anger- "No," Jack decided for his lover, "you are _going_ with me, goddammit! I am _sick_ and fucking _tired_ of having to show up at these stupid posh parties alone and have my 'imaginary boyfriend' and I mocked sideways, up a tree just because my _actual_ boyfriend, who I assure you is _really_ pushing it with that title at the moment, is too much of an antisocial _dick_ to have the _decency_ to show up with me!" Chase simply stood there for a moment, utterly shocked by the anger and vulgarity that'd just been spewed at him. "Spicer…" the man breathed. "You are positively _livid_…" "No shit, genius," the goth snorted at him, _far_ too righteously upset to fear for his life or feel bad for cussing Chase out. It turned out that neither was necessary, as the youth found himself backed up against the wall, his lover's hands on him, but gently, and with no urge to do harm. "So passionate," Chase murmured to him, still sounding a bit stunned. "Your breathing is heavy, your cheeks are flushed, your eyes are glowing; if I didn't know better…I'd say we were making love…" Jack's eyebrows went high on his forehead at this statement, but before he could question it, the man had lowered himself to his neck, nipping and kissing with an extreme dose of affection. For a moment, the goth was as stunned as Chase had been: this was, in fewest words, a weird place for an argument to go. He was pulled from this state soon enough as Chase attempted to remove his jacket, forgetting that in place of a zipper, he had installed a hypersensitive fingerprint sensor, thus causing the extremely horny warlord to give a noise of frustration and paw at his collar like a cat in heat. While this had not been at all expected, Jack Spicer was not a genius for nothing: he had seen the look in his lover's eyes that meant he could think of nothing else until his more primal needs were satisfied, and being as intelligent as he was, the goth could use this… "Chase," he spoke firmly, "you'll go with me to the party?" "Mmhmm," the man agreed, still working in vain at the coat. "And you'll do things for me more often? Instead of just me doing things for you?" "Yes, Spicer, _anything_," the warlord growled, glaring up at him. "Take this off or I'll rip it off…" Jack grinned and placed the pad of his index finger upon the chest of his coat, swiping downwards quickly and releasing the fabric's hold upon itself. As Chase immediately pulled the garment off of him and tossed it aside, the albino officially decided: the hell with the puppy eyes; getting pissed at him works _twice_ as well!

Disgust- Chase could smell the disgust his lover was feeling at the moment; it almost hurt to know that the disgust was because of him. "Are you well, Spicer?" he asked at the particularly green tinge of the boy's white face. "Y-yeah," Jack managed to quiver out, doing his best to hide his reluctance in placing his hands on the warlord's damaged body, "m'fine. Just…_really_ squeamish. I've got…issues with blood." The man could not sit up at the moment: the muscles in his abdomen were so badly torn and shredded right now that it would be likely be several days before even _his_ super-accelerated healing would allow him much movement. He could, however, lift his hand to Jack's cheek in a gesture of comfort. "If this bothers you, you may go. One of my warriors could bandage me in your stead." "No," the goth immediately answered with a vehemence that surprised his beloved. "I mean, I can't say I _like_ doing this, but…I love you, Chase: if this helps you, I'll do it, no matter how much of a pussy my stomach's being about it." For a moment, the man was stunned totally silent. Then, his hand moved to curl around the albino's, giving a firm squeeze. "Very well, Spicer, you may continue when you feel ready. I appreciate that you would do this for me." Still a bit queasy looking, Jack nonetheless smiled and assured, "Anything for you, Chase."

Remorse- Jack knew his time as dictator of Earth was just about up. He wasn't sure if it was the fact that his body was somewhere in between eighty and ninety years old (he couldn't remember exactly where, only proving that he was at last going senile) or if it was just some weird feeling or other, but he knew the truth: he likely wasn't going to last the week. With a ragged sigh, he forced his aged body to its feet, moving to the wall of monitors that showed every last thing occurring within his stronghold at the current time; he only needed to see one screen. It was very late at night, and even former dragon warlords needed their sleep; Chase Young was limp in his bonds, his head down and his hair _just_ brushing against the floor with his every slow intake of breath. A quick adjustment of the camera taking the video feed (because Jack had not yet gone senile enough to forget his technology and never would) assured a better view, one not blocked by inky black locks, and the dictator felt himself swoon as if his heart was still that of a fifteen-year-old boy's. The man's face was entirely relaxed in sleep, dark eyelashes fanned over his high cheek bones and lips slightly parted in unconsciousness, completely and utterly _beautiful_. Asleep was the only time Chase did not frown or scowl at Jack, and that was why he so treasured the view. To keep looking hurt too much, and so the aged goth turned from the monitors to his master computer, programming posthumous orders to his robots to be executed, well…posthumously. He could not leave Chase Young captive forever, especially when he would no longer be around to enjoy his captivity. But no, that was not the right phrase. He did not _enjoy_ keeping the warlord his prisoner in the least; it was simply the closest he could get to actually _having_ him, the way he'd always wanted to. But Chase had continuously refused his offers of partnership, and now…it was too late. _Much_ too late. Jack sighed once more and dragged himself back to his bed, regretting only that he was returning to a soon-to-be tomb and not a gorgeous lover he could at least cuddle with before he was to die.

Contempt- Chase had always loathed Spicer for what he'd done to him; he was not one to forgive capture and humiliation by anyone, much less by someone who was not even a warrior and had achieved it through deceitful means. The man supposed that had been why he'd never accepted the pleas to join forces with him, to rule with him, his contempt preventing him from agreeing to what he saw as submission. Now…he realized different. It hadn't been submission he was being offered at all, a robot had informed him, but an actual _partnership_. "Master Spicer loved you," it droned beside him, reciting what it had been programmed to tell him even as its brethren busied themselves with returning the dictator's stronghold to what it had been when Chase had resided in it as its owner. "He offered you everything, but it wasn't enough. His last wish was that you be freed and that all of your things be put back as they were. He hoped that that at least would make you happy." The warlord did not look at the machine: he couldn't, unable to tear his eyes away from the all-too-still form before him, what-ifs rushing through his head. What if he'd accepted Spicer's offer? What if he'd allowed the goth to rule beside him? What…what could have prevented this outcome, Jack dying alone and heartbroken in his sleep? The answer came to Chase immediately and it burned him inside to acknowledge that absolutely _anything_ that might have been changed this was solely his responsibility: this was _his_ fault. After all, the dictator had taken every available opportunity to win him over, and _he_ had been the one to refuse them all. Helplessly, Chase fell to his knees and clutched Jack's corpse tightly to him, contempt once more rising within the warlord but this time at himself as a broken, inhuman howl of loss escaped his throat.

Anticipation- He had gotten wind of it through Wuya. Normally, Jack wouldn't have given a thought to something the witch had told him concerning Chase: she was far too jealous of the fact that the warlord had chosen him over her to be trusted not to go mudslinging just for the joy of seeing their relationship in any kind of turmoil. However…he was decidedly more inclined to believe her this time. Why? The news she had told him was _good_ news, and she had seemed pissed about it when she'd said it, so the chances were good that it was actually true. Chase was going to propose an eternal partnership with him: the Heylin equivalent of _marriage_. Naturally, Jack was so excited he could hardly see straight. And so, the goth had waited for days, attentive to the warlord's every word and action, trying to anticipate even the barest hint of anything that might be construed as an offer of marriage so that he couldn't _possibly_ miss it. Days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to a month, and…absolutely nothing. As much as it hurt, Jack sighed to himself, slumping on the couch in defeat, it was looking like Wuya had lied again just to eff with him. "What's wrong with you, Spicer?" Chase wondered with a frown, staring at the morose lump of teenager upon his couch. "You've been moping all day." "Unh…" grunted Jack, otherwise remaining motionless. "Spicer," the warlord warned, "if you don't tell me what your particular malfunction today is right this instant, I swear I will-" "Its Wuya," the goth moaned, "she's just up to her usual two-faced crap." This seemed to give the man pause, and in a low, very serious voice, he demanded, "What did she tell you?" Jack sat up on the couch so that he actually appeared to have bones and sighed, "Don't worry about it; she's just getting my hopes up about nothing." A cold gust of wind could almost be heard to gust through the room, and Chase frowned darkly. "She told you, didn't she?" Jack looked up at his lover, almost hesitantly questioning, "T-told me what?" The warlord seemed to find the answer to the question in his red eyes and flat-out _scowled_. "Curse that woman to the deepest level of Hell that exists!" The goth jumped at this statement. "Whoa, Chase, what the-" "How much do you know?!" the man snapped. "All I know is that Wuya said you wanted to kinda sorta maybe get married!" the albino blurted out. This seemed to be what Chase had feared, and he snarled a particularly vile oath before plopping down onto the couch beside his lover. After a long moment of complete silence between them, the younger of the two reached out to place a hand on an armored shoulder. "Y…you okay, baby?" he wondered timidly. Chase sighed at this, quietly admitting, "I was hoping to surprise you…" Jack's eyes went wide. "So you really _do_ want to…?" A single nod. The goth smiled and hugged his lover tightly. "Surprise or not," he informed, "I still accept the offer if you're still making it." Seeming startled by this, the man inquired, "You do?" "Psh, duh," Jack snickered. "You know, not _everything_ you do has to be done with complete finesse and awesomeness for it to work out; sometimes screw-ups work just as well." "Like how you intended to declare your feelings for me and kiss me passionately but only ended up stuttering incomprehensibly and tripping over your own feet into a kiss?" Chase slyly queried. "It worked, didn't it?" the goth winked. "So it did," the man conceded. "So when should we get hitched?" the teenager asked, bringing the main subject matter back into focus. "'Cause we're totally forcing Wuya to be the flower girl."

Disappointment- "Spicer," Chase frowned at the young man, "I demand that you explain yourself!" Jack looked up at him from where he sat on his bed, appearing nothing like the Jack Spicer that had just weeks ago gloated over a victory long enough for Omi to kick the Wu out of his hand and steal it back. The youth wore a green t-shirt and a dark pair of slacks; his hands were on either side of him, sans gloves, bracing the weight of his upper body upon the mattress as he leaned away from the warlord ever so slightly. This motion normally would have done nothing to the boy's red hair, the stuff so glued back by gel that a rainstorm of fireballs couldn't dislodge it, but now a few locks, the natural pale-pale blond of albinism, fell out of his eyes to hover above his shoulders. Having no good reason, Chase nonetheless _hated_ every inch of the former-goth's new appearance; perhaps he blamed Jack's mysterious absence from every Shen Gong Wu hunt in the past month, which had accumulated to a good sixteen, on it. "Where have you been?" he growled. "Here," the youth answered, "catching up on a couple years of schooling. I need to study what I'm supposed to know by now so I don't accidentally test into too high a grade level." "You're going back to _school_?" the warlord found himself gaping. "Yeah," Jack shrugged, seeming to avoid eye-contact with the man. "I figure...school's a good way to integrate back into normal society." An icy feeling pooled in the dragon's stomach at those words. "…_'normal'_?" The youth stood from the bed and walked around Chase, going to sit at his desk. His eyes, the only thing along with the white skin that was right about the boy at the moment, locked onto the warlord. "I can't…do the Shen Gong Wu thing anymore; I'm not good at it. I'm never gonna get anywhere like that, and maybe…maybe normalcy is better. At least I'd make friends my own age now that I don't look like a wrist-slitting emo-kid." Something within Chase immediately protested the phrase, but he held his tongue. "It's probably best if I just…leave this Heylin thing to you and Wuya and Bean." Unable to think of anything else to say, the warlord spoke the first truth that came to mind. "That is…disappointing." Immediately, Jack's entire body flinched at the statement, and he all but whimpered, "Wh…_what?_" Chase frowned and asserted, "Your choice to abandon the side of evil is disappointing." The youth's head dropped with a noise akin to a sob; his shoulders hunched and his fingers clenched, a slight tremor wracking his form. This gave the man pause and he inquired, "Spicer?" "I can't win, can I?" Jack quivered out, voice little more than a squeak. "You're disappointed in me no matter _what_ I do." The dragon's eyes went wide at this, and when Jack looked at him, he was startled into stepping backwards ever so slightly at the sheer _pain_ displayed on the boy's face. "I…I just want to do what makes you _happy_, Chase. If…if it's not evil and it's not normal, then what the hell do you _want_ me to be?!" he begged. At the realization of the importance placed on his thoughts and the hurt caused by not being able to follow them, Chase with a sudden clarity knew the answer to Jack's question. He stepped forward, cupping the albino's cheeks in his hands and kissing him hard, growling as he pulled away, "_Mine..._"

Love- "Oh, God, Chase," Jack sighed, "I think I'm gonna _come_…" The warlord looked at him for a moment. "You're far too easy, Spicer," he said at last. "I'm not even trying." Letting his head rest against the pillow, the goth hummed, "I'd love to see what happens when you _do_ try." "Yes, well," the albino watched as his boyfriend stood from his chair in the corner of the room, "you shall have to wait until next Christmas for that." He joined Jack on the bed and tugged at one end of the blanket he was so thoroughly enthralled with, slipping beneath it and cuddling up against the youth. "Oh, great," the goth moaned, "now I'm gonna come _twice_ as hard now that you're here!" The warlord snorted. "This is a nice blanket, Spicer; it is not nice enough to make you orgasm." "Shut up, it totally _is_! Best Christmas present ever, baby, for real. You must _love_ me to get me something so cuddly and warm and awesome…" "Yes," Chase spoke seriously, "I do." Jack paused in his enjoyment of the fluffy gift and smiled brightly, scooting closer in order to better fit the man's body. "I love you too, Chase," he assured, pressing a kiss to the warlord's lips. "Thank you."

Submission- Chase remembered a man who once believed submission to be a combination of acceptance and fear. It was a definition he agreed with, especially in reference to himself: after all, one could simply _not_ submit to Chase Young without both accepting his rule and fearing him at least to some extent. The warlord had long ago decided that that was what he wanted, in all people but especially in a lover. The issue with this, unfortunately, was the sheer difficulty of conditioning someone, _anyone_ to accept his definition of submission. All those he had an interest in believed that being in a relationship was _above all_ a partnership, that there could be no dominance of one over the other on either side: the two of them _had_ to be exactly equal in status of all things and anything other than that was viewed as some sort of abusive relationship. At this point in his life, Chase could no longer count how many lovers he'd turned away because they sobbed about how unfairly dominating he was being to them or complaining that they didn't have enough power in the relationship. Frustrated with the whole thing, he'd very nearly given up, and then…_he'd_ come into his life. For a long while, Chase had assumed the boy was a phantom of his imagination, for he was _perfect_. With no training or conditioning whatsoever, the young man would obey his every word and command, flinch away or take back a statement with only a sharp tone to cow him: instant acceptance, instant fear. Instant submission. And of course, the albino loved him deeply already; that much was obvious. Accepting the boy as his consort only proved to be _more_ pleasing, as Jack easily caught onto the fact that the warlord could not be anything _but_ dominant, and to do no more than allow for this was all that the man ever really asked of his lovers. It was at the moment he realized this that Chase decided to make Jack Spicer his own permanently; Jack Spicer, the only being he'd ever met who could both truly love him and truly submit to him.

Awe- Jack couldn't help but be constantly awed by Chase Young. It was like a sickness that he couldn't get rid of and every single time he laid eyes on the man, despite the fact that he'd been living with him for a year now and should've been used to him, there was always _something_ that made his jaw want to drop. If they were at a Showdown, it was how powerful and skilled he was; if they were in bed, it was how mind-blowingly he made love; if they were simply in each other's presence, doing nothing in particular, it was how fucking _gorgeous_ he was or how _smart_ he was. The thing that inspired the most awe in Jack, however, was that Chase Young had chosen _him_.

Optimism- At first, Chase had not been happy to discover the reason Spicer had been absent from Showdowns with increasing frequency. After all, he was one for planning things in advance, and his future plans for the boy genius most certainly _did not_ include a sixteen-year-old brat asserting the position of 'girlfriend'. It was especially displeasing when the man had been so _very_ close to finally allowing Jack a place by his side (now that the necessary years of refusal to make him truly _want_ it were at last over, of course). Luckily, the warlord also happened to be one for being able to counteract the unexpected, and within hours, his strategy for finally luring the boy into his clutches was once more perfect. When Jack received a call from a man by the name of Troy asking for his _precious_ Elli, claiming a 'hot night' and wanting to 'hook up' again, where else could the heart-broken Spicer turn to but Chase Young, his idol and evil hero? Feeling optimistic, the warlord glanced at the clock and chuckled a fiendish chuckle; not long now…

**A/N: So, here is my newest work, the one I'd been hoping to have done by Christmas but it didn't quite work out that way. XD It utilizes Robert Plutchik's wheel of emotions, which consists of eight basic emotions and eight advanced emotions.**

Normally, for these things, I don't do this, but I think for this one its necessary to go through it like I do with my Anthology chapters.

So, here we go!

_Joy-_ Basic emotion, contrasted by sadness; Dippin' Dots are good, and I get the feeling Jack would get the banana split flavor! ;P

_Acceptance-_ Basic emotion, contrasted by disgust; no actual comment.

_Fear-_ Basic emotion, contrasted by anger; when I wrote that the part about it being curtains for Jack, I swear I almost wrote 'lacey, gently wafting curtains.' Anyone who can figure out why gets a cake (imaginary, of course)!

_Surprise-_ Basic emotion, contrasted by anticipation; grumbly Chase is fun to write. He's like the Grumbly Bumbly Bear. (Who remembers _that_ chapter of Anthology? XD)

_Aggressiveness-_ Advanced emotion, combination of anger and anticipation, contrasted by awe; bitch had it coming. XP

_Sadness-_ Basic emotion, contrasted by joy; no actual comment.

_Anger-_ Basic emotion, contrasted by fear; I figure its about damn time Jack showed off his backbone, and so he has. It just so happens that backbones (along with most other things Jack has) turn Chase on. XD

_Disgust-_ Basic emotion, contrasted by acceptance; I'm just about as squeamish as Jack is. I cannot handle blood other than mine in large amounts, much less watch those horrid surgeries people show on TV, _CANNOT_. XP

_Remorse-_ Advanced emotion, combination of sadness and disgust, contrasted by love; set in the alternate time-line that Omi mucked around in, resulting in Jack's ruling of the Earth. I swear to God, I don't know why I write these types of emo things when I _know_ I can't handle them; I had to stop every couple of minutes during this to keep from bawling, 'cause I'm such a pussy. D:

_Contempt-_ Advanced emotion, combination of disgust and anger, contrasted by submission; this is a direct sequel to _Remorse_ in case you were wondering, from Chase's perspective after Jack's death. I cried less through this one, but likely only because it was shorter.

_Anticipation-_ Basic emotion, contrasted by surprise; yay, evil wedding! XD

_Disappointment-_ Advanced emotion, combination of surprise and sadness, contrasted by optimism; Jack lives for Chase's approval would do anything to get it, even...*shudder* be _normal_. XP Then again, albino-blond Jackie could be hot. Hmm... o.o

_Love-_ Advanced emotion, combination of joy and acceptance, contrasted by remorse; this was actually inspired by a Christmas gift I got, and that blanket is _AWESOME_. :D

_Submission-_ Advanced emotion, combination of acceptance and fear, contrasted by contempt; the beginning is actually a reference to the whole premise of this short, seeing as its _Plutchik's_ Wheel of Emotion and Chase is giving Robert Plutchik credit for his definition of submission. ;P

_Awe-_ Advanced emotion, combination of fear and surprise, contrasted by aggressiveness; a good dose of fluff to balance out the emo of _Remorse_ and _Contempt_ (which were originally at the end of the short but were moved because that is NO note on which to end; being towards the middle balances it out and makes you read some happier ones after the sad ones to get over it, I think).

_Optimism-_ Advanced emotion, combination of anticipation and joy, contrasted by disappointment; devious-Chase is devious. XD Also, I named the girl Elli with an 'i', because most of the cutesy girls I know have names that end in 'i' when a 'y' or and 'ie' would work just fine and they generally dot them with cutesy things, like hearts or circles. o.o

ANYWHO, that's all I've got to say about the Chack Wheel of Emotions, so I hope you enjoyed it! :D


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